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A few years ago, my dear friend Lindsay moved to India. She’d traveled there before, fallen in love with an Indian man, and decided to just freaking go for it. I was really, really sad when she left–but had to tip my hat to her. I mean, talk about balls. They planned to return to the US to marry, but various bureaucratic BS kept that happening. Last year, she and Sanjay married in India. I devoured the photos on Facebook. I was sad not to be there, but thrilled to see how effing happy she looked.

But it all worked out in the end, because in September Lindsay brought Sanjay to the good ole US of A to meet her family and friends and get themselves hitched in their US wedding. It was LITERALLY the event we’d all been waiting for. We’d waited TWO WHOLE YEARS to celebrate this pair in the US. And folks, it did not disappoint!

Lindsay and Sanjay wed at OMSI in a beautiful ceremony that blended Hindu and American traditions. And I was honored to serve as one of her bridesmaids.

And this was not just a one-day affair. Oh no, it was a THREE DAY LOVEFEST of JOY. Here’s how it went down.

Day 1: Henna Party/Bachelor Party

Thursday night the gentlemen vacated the house for the bachelor party (which included the youngest male member of the wedding party, the ring bearer, who got to have as much root beer as he wanted that night), and Linds brought in a henna artist. Melanie did BEAUTIFUL bridal henna for Lindsay, with fun designs for the rest of the ladies as well. Oh, and there was food. There was a lot of food, all three days.

Me, freshly henna-ed

Day 2: Rehearsal/Rehearsal dinner

Friday was the rehearsal, at OMSI. We met the officiant and went through the whole shebang. When that was done, we went back to home base for food. AND CAKE! The bride’s niece turned 11 that day, and we took a wedding break to celebrate her. She had gifts, and her mom (bride’s sister) made an amazing cake. Best part? The niece wore a tee shirt that said “she may be the bride, but I’m the birthday girl.”

Me and the bride taking a break for some pretend selfies.

We’re smiling because we know we’re thisclose to getting food and cake.

Day 3, Part 1: WEDDING DAY/Getting ready

The next day, I was up at the crack of freaking dawn (ok, it was 7:30) to get my hair blown out and flat-ironed. Folks, I’m a loud and proud curly girl, and it has been ALMOST 4 YEARS since my hair has seen a straightening iron. But I decided it would be a fun look to do for the wedding. My pal/stylist Jamie did a KILLER job and I had a great time as my straight-haired evil doppelganger.

Boom.

Then it was time for a quick lunch before heading to the hotel to get ready with the rest of the bridal party and the bride!

Linds has brought all of us beautiful, jewel toned saris and jewelry to wear for the wedding. Here’s the thing–putting on a sari is a tricky thing if you’re not used to it. I tried to teach myself via YouTube video, but quickly gave that up. So before we could dress her, she had to dress all of us.

After we were all set, we got to business and got the bride ready. She looked amazing in a Western white wedding dress paired with jewelry she brought with her from India. And then we were off to OMSI to get this wedding stuff DONE.

Beautiful bangles

All dressed up…except for the bride!

Checking out the view from the hotel

Me doing my job!

Getting beautiful

Day 3, Part 2: WEDDING DAY/BIG EVENT

Finally, it was time. The ceremony was a beautiful fusion of elements from her culture and elements from his. The couple exchanged vows and kissed at the end, but also incorporated the saptapadi (7 step ritual) as the bridesmaids and groomsmen threw flowers. The bridesmaids tried to get the flower petals down Lindsay’s top, because we are classy. After the ceremony, we posed for photos before going inside and partying down. It was glorious. There was a ton of dancing, with a special performance by the bride herself. It should be mentioned that the bride had THREE costumes, because after waiting 2 years for her stateside wedding, a girl should get to be a little Beyonce. Oh, and there was more food. And cake. And Ashley (maid of honor) made her famous red velvet whoopie pies.

Me, the world’s most awkward photobomber

Walking down the aisle

D. and I under the Mandap

The beautiful, beautiful couple

SO MUCH FUN

Obligatory wedding selfie

The bride and groom walking their 7 circles, as we tossed flowers

Lindsay being super glam

The Aftermath

I got to see Linds and Sanjay one more time before they returned to India.

I’m a little broken hearted, but it’s bittersweet. They’re so, so happy–which makes me so, so happy. And I earned a year’s worth of killer memories in those 3 short days. It was just really effing special.

So congrats, Lindsay and Sanjay. You are loved, on both sides of the world.

My boss serves on the board for the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, OR. He and his wife own a condo in Ashland and were kind enough to invite me to stay with them for a few days and see some shows. I spent four days wandering the town, shopping, watching their dog play, seeing fabulous theatre and having wonderful conversations with interesting people. I saw productions of INTO THE WOODS (fabulous), THE GREAT SOCIETY (fabulous), RICHARD III (solid) and TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA (meh), came home with two fabulous new dresses and some lovely accessories, spent an afternoon with a coconut cream tart and my iPhone camera at Lithia Park, tried homemade lemon basil ice cream (delish), and slept the sweet sleep of a lady who doesn’t have a damn thing to do except see plays and window shop. For four days, I was living the good life with really, REALLY good people.

Now I am home and back to the grind and busy busy busy–but my heart is happy for having taken some time away.

Folks, I’m an energetic chick. It’s no particular skill, I was just blessed with a lot of energy. And often, when I think I have used up all my energy and all my energy reserves, I’ll find that my reserves have extra reserves, and I have enough to get me through.

But sometimes my energy really has been depleted and there are no reserves. And that’s when bad shit starts to happen. That’s when I lose it and have some kind of breakdown (several of which have been dissected on this very site). I sense that breakdown time is nigh.

Like all humans, I work best in that happy medium between “bored” and “no time to do anything but work, sorry eating and resting and social life.” Sometimes that medium can be hard to maintain. Writing helps. It really does. It’s times like these that I’m the most grateful that I have my little corner of the internet. Others can visit–and I love it when they do!–but Rosettes and Revolution is mine, and it gives me comfort to know that it’s here. Ready and waiting to take in all my incoherent rambling.

Speaking of which.

There is nothing much to do in times like this except put one foot in front of the other. Do one thing. And then do another thing. And then do a third and a fourth thing. And then, at some point, to say “screw the rest of the things, I’m going to take a bath and watch TV and not do any more work today.”

So in that spirit–

Screw the rest of the things. I’m going to take a bath and watch TV and not do any more work today.

It wasn’t bad, not at all. I got to do a show that night, I got lots of phone calls and messages from friends and family, received some lovely gifts, was surprised with beautiful flowers from my boyfriend…all good things. But there were some bummer things, too. My plans to spend the day on the Lewis River with my boyfriend were totally derailed and the trip got cancelled. I took myself to the movies as a consolation, but I went to see The Giver, which was totally wretched (read the book and skip the movie. Please). I was exhausted by the end of the day and our tentative plans to go out after the show didn’t materialize. It was just kind of a bleh-birthday.

But Dusty was adamant that we make it to the river. So on Wednesday, we cleared our schedule and took a day off. And friends, it was AWESOME.

Waking up that morning FELT like my birthday. We got up, put together our picnic, and dashed up to Lewisville Park. We spent hours sunbathing (extra win–my SPF 75 and sunhat did their jobs and I DIDN’T BURN!), splashing in the river, snacking, and taking summery selfies. I got to try out my new bathing suit (the “Penelope” crochet suit in navy from Nordstroms cost me an arm and a leg but was totally worth it!) Since it was my (un)birthday, I subjected him to Harry Potter, reading the first few chapters aloud to him like I always wanted to. We took a slow walk back to our car, stopping to pick up walking sticks and swing on the abandoned swingset. We ate ice cream on the way home and took a long, long nap.

But that wasn’t everything. That evening I went out with two friends who I love like family for a belated birthday dinner at Tasty N Sons, which was every bit as delicious as it should have been. I went home full of food and happiness. Dusty had gone to Seattle that night, so I was free to discover Orphan Black, which is basically my favorite show now that there is no more Game of Thrones for me to watch.

I guess my point is this: Birthdays are special. The gift of another year lived and the promise of another year to come is worth celebrating. And everyone deserves one day a year to be totally selfish and have things their way–and the chance to give others that day in return. I’m happy I got to have the day I wanted, even if it wasn’t on the day I planned.

It took his death for me to realize how much he had made up the fabric of my life. His voice was a constant in my childhood, as I watched videos of Aladdin and Mrs. Doubtfire and, especially, my beloved Hook over and over and over on our ancient VCR. His influence extended into my young adulthood with Dead Poets Society (which will forever and always take me back to Mr. Barrett’s class and the happiest school year of my life) and Good Will Hunting. He even touched my adulthood with Death to Smoochy, which I maintain is the funniest thing I ever saw and I really don’t care what the critics had to say about it.

And now he’s gone. And somehow, I can’t quite fathom it. I mean, it’s not like I spent tons of time thinking about Robin Williams. I just thought, stupidly, that he would always be around. His characters were so large and epic that it didn’t really sink into my poor human brain that he is–was–just a man.

His passing serves as a reminder of two things. The first is that we never truly know what is happening inside another person. A person’s outside, whether they are a public figure or no, is not always an accurate representation of their inside. It reminds me that there might be people in my own life who are suffering, and I might have no idea.

The second is that death is coming to us all. It seems so strange–that someone can be here and then not be here–and yet it us, truly, the most natural thing in the world. The great unifier, so to speak. I never met Robin Williams. But he is dead and one day I will be dead and one day everyone I know will be dead. How is death so shocking when it is so certain?

When Tess contemplates her own death in Tess of the D’Urbervilles, she speaks of all of her “tomorrows” unfolding one after another–until at last she reaches the tomorrow that is the day she will die. This framing of death has always been a strange comfort to me. I will live until I die. My tomorrows hold joy, heartbreak, frustration, elation and, eventually, the end. Maybe I will see it coming. Maybe it will be over before I know what’s happening. But it’s waiting for me. It’s waiting for all of us.

With Robin’s death, a line to my childhood has snapped. Maybe it snapped long ago, and it took his passing for me to realize it. There is no childhood in my line of tomorrows, those have all passed. All that remains is to fill the tomorrows with as much LIFE as I can and hope that when my death greets me, I can be at peace with the knowledge that I lived and loved as best I could.

The added tragedy of his passing, of course, is that it appears that he took his own life. It makes me profoundly sad that a man who created joy for so many was unable to lift himself out of the darkness. Suicide of a loved one has touched my life, and so I send my deepest sympathies to those who knew and loved the man rather than the artist.

My Dearest Readers, I do not know what is hidden in your soul of souls. But if you too are battling that darkness, please know that I care for you. If I can be of help, reach out to me. If I can’t, reach out to someone else. But you are loved and you matter and there are people who want to help you.

Death will come for us all. But until then, we must strive to live as best we can. We all have some darkness in us, and I hope we can all find the strength to reach out and grab a hand when the darkness of depression or addiction or brain chemistry threatens to pull us under. And I hope we can all find the wisdom and insight to sense, as best we can, when we might offer that hand to someone else. Our tomorrows will have some darkness. May we all find the moments of light and love.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills.

I haven’t written, but know that I have VERY GOOD CAUSE. My show went into tech and then into opening (very successful, so yay), my work life got slammed, and I was battling pretty major fatigue at every turn.

And then the bombshell: Dusty (my boyfriend, ICYMI), would start working from home. Immediately.

First of all: This is very good news. He does something similar to what I do–that is, a whole bunch of different stuff–and working from home will provide him with more flexibility. The change in his work arrangement has other benefits, which I won’t get into because it’s none of our business. But yay! It’s good.

The immediate concern was, of course, space. Dusty found out this move was taking place on Thursday, and on Saturday he moved his work computer and stuff into our house to begin on Monday. So our first thought was where in Hades to PUT the damn stuff. He has his downstairs rehearsal/recording studio, but there’s not enough room for all his music stuff AND his work stuff. So that left the office.

My office.

Now, considering I’m a spoiled, introverted only child who is greedy with space and craves solitude, I was surprised at how utterly OK I was with the idea of him “moving in” to my room. I could easily move out my “thinking couch” (yes, that’s really what I called it) and bring in a second desk. I was HAPPY to do it. But there was only one desk. His desk. I knew I had to vacate the premises immediately and return his desk to him. But then, of course, I had to get a desk of my own.

The next step was an ordeal. Since he had to be back to work Monday, we had to get our shit lined up Sunday after my matinee. The final performance of OPENING WEEKEND, which meant we were fresh out of tech/dress/performances and I was exhausted. Even still, we piled into his car and drove to the local thrift store. It took a massive effort (choosing a desk, realizing it wouldn’t fit in the car, running to Fred Meyer to buy the rando screwdriver needed to take it apart, taking it apart, driving it home in two trips, going out for ice cream (!), re-assembling it, moving my crap into the new desk, loading Dusty’s stuff into his desk), but I am now the proud owner of a beautiful roll-top desk that I adore and purchased for a steal.

His.

Hers.

And my office is now our office.

Once we finally had our office in order, Dusty took a look around and said

“We’re going to be seeing a whole lot of each other.”

Back-to-back

This is a big deal. For the first year and a half of our relationship, we led very separate lives. Our own careers, our own friends, our own homes, our own lives. We loved each other and spending time together, but also had our own shit going on. That changed when we moved in together–sharing a home means sharing a life. But even with a shared home and shared life, we’re both independent as hell. And part of that is–was–time apart during the day.

But here’s the thing.

I’m happy he’s going to be around. Maybe I have to turn in my Independent Woman card (j/k, you can pry it from my cold dead fingers), but I’m stoked that we’ll be together all day. I feel like I should be worried…but I’m not. I just think it’s cool. And it’s not like we’re really together ALL the time–he still has to go to the office for brief spurts several times per week, and I’m always flitting about.

It’s a new step, for sure. But even to my independence-and-solitude-craving-introverted-self, it feels good to have a buddy at work.